Answers too late
by Wyrsa
Summary: Enlightment comes with age and experience. Regret lingers. (One Shot)


Disclaimer: Inuyasha is not mine. And if the series ever ends like this.... I would thank God that it isn't mine. 

AN: Sorry its short. I was feeling very introspective, and maybe a little depressed. Can you tell? Let me know. I don't want to say much else or the whole effect will be lost. I suppose it can be like "Questions Remain" in that it is a character sketch. This is how I see Inuyasha under the circumstances. I love to debate characters with people. Let me know what you think.   
  
  
  


**Answers too late**

In a bustling village at the edge of Inuyasha's forest sat a modest home where five figures ate quietly around a blazing fire. Each face was a study in introspection. The adolescent kitsune finished his bowl first. He set it down and leaned onto the two-tailed fire cat next to him. The cat purred softly, blinking her large red eyes. Her gray-haired mistress stared into the fire from her position at the cat's side. On the huntress's other side the wrinkled monk appeared to be in meditation. A small frown weighed his lips. Each of these four showed telltale signs of hardship. The faded scars, the alert bearings. Most telling of all was the haunting loss shadowing each gaze. Time had exacted its toll. 

The fifth figure who showed the least scarring (due to his healing abilities), and the most alertness due to his superior senses. The dark shadow of loss belied the agelessness of his features. His eyes still bore their intensity, under which many a demon and human alike would quail. His fangs still gleamed, sharp and sure. And at night, the moon still ruled his demon blood. But some thirty years ago the spark in him dimmed. 

No matter. The huntress, the monk, the kitsune, the fire cat, and countless others still looked to him for protection; a champion; the tragic hero that wouldn't die. He gave each of the others what they needed. He had found his strength. So he shared it when his odd little group faltered, as they had thirty years before. Only, then he'd needed strength. And She'd given it. She'd given so many things to them. 

That was who She was. 

And now this small group of retired adventurers is who She Is. Her legacy. 

Perhaps She watched them from wherever She was in time and space. Her soft gaze caressing their forms, sending them courage and compassion as each rose one by one to seek the solace of sleep. Because in dreams She could still be there, laughing, living. But one figure stayed by the cookfire long past the others. He found answers here, alone by the dying embers. And in those answers was some small consolation. 

**~*~*~Inuyasha POV~*~*~**

I once thought that I would never understand her. 

But after the day's work is done, and the others sleep, I find myself with time to think. I spend these few hours of stolen solitude reminiscing about everything connected with her. As I slip into my memories I take on more of my younger personality. My hostility, long quelled; my loneliness, since banished; my passion, spent: all these arise again. I am swallowed by her. It is not her hair, or eyes, or the way the sun would warm her features that I recall most vividly. Her scent has faded from my nose. Her voice, a soft whisper at the corners of my hearing. But I still remember her. The real Her. 

Her actions, her words, her emotional outbursts. The way Her eyes could blaze with inner fire one moment and then sooth with boundless compassion the next. I never understood it all. I could never predict it. She would leave me wide-eyed and breathless at times. Sometimes She just left me flattened in a hole.... And I can't say I really understood that either. 

I never understood those tests. Or school. Or how a world with so much noise and stink could create something as wonderful as Ramen. Or why her skirt had to be so damn short. Not that Miroku or I really complained about that one. 

But I thought that I understood her family. Enough to be envious. Jealous, really, that she had them. Later on, in our time together, I was jealous that they had her. It looked too perfect and ideal. Too wonderful for a pitiful outsider, a lowly hanyou. I envied her that. 

That is... until the first time I stumbled across her mother crying. I couldn't be envious of that. I knew what crying mothers do to you. I could understand her there. Maybe that's when it started. My slow process of empathy began with those three salty tears. I know they tore her heart. Just like my mother's tears had eaten at mine all those years ago. And even if I never caught the rest of her family crying, I'm sure they did. When she wasn't looking. When she was with me. Risking her life for me. Me, making them cry. Her, making them cry. We did it together. 

She'd smile as she kissed her mother's cheeks, hugged her concerned grandfather, and ruffled her brother's hair. She'd pet her cat, finish her duties, and turn away with a cheery face. She hid it so well. But I could see the pain. I knew it well. The same guilt lived in me too. It was more of a connection then the Shikon no Tama could ever be. We met on common ground in the black recesses of our souls. 

And that, oddly enough is where I finally began to understand her. 

In those first few days of our relationship I took her for granted. I took her motives for granted. What did I care about this silly human girl? In my selfish reasoning it figured that since she broke the Shikon jewel, she should fix it. That's it. Why? Feh. Not my problem. I knew my motives. At least I told myself that. Power. A label -- not the one I was born with. Hanyou, the dirty tone of it. I was ready for a new one. Youkai. The fear that word elicted. The fear I mistook for respect. 

Respect she gave freely. Yet, even after I tried to kill her she denied fear. Or rather, she showed me fear. Fear of losing me, be it to another demon or to the demon that rages in me still. But she taught me fear too. I think she's the only one to have ever made me terrified. She scared me with her immediate offer of acceptance. She scares me still. 

I didn't understand her acceptance, the first gifts of friendship and kindness. I've seen her use this same openness to create a family here. Somehow her friendship went beyond. She made us devoted to her. Beholden to her for anything worth living for. And I don't understand that. 

How one person can become a foundation. And the rest of us were the used lumber. Worn, damaged, cast aside. But with her, we became the richest mansion. Steadfast, secure, relying on each other. Dare I say beautiful even? Maybe. The old me would never have admitted such a thing. I was too blind, immature, and hurt then. But as I look back I can see it. I can name it. And I do not have to be ashamed to recognize its beauty. It was a family. It was more. And she made it thus. 

I understand now. Why she did it. Even if it took painful prodding from Miroku to clue me in. 

She left us because she had to. Because she loved us. Because her love was enough of a foundation that the rest of us could continue to stand. I first thought it was a duty. A burden. But now I know. She left because she loved us. Loved me. 

Kikyo died once for duty. She died a second time for vengeance. 

But Kagome, my Kagome, my foundation. She died for love. Love of an orphaned kit given one more chance. Love of a worldly monk and soul-sick demon huntress given a first chance. Love of a world long gone from her own. And love of a hanyou boy struggling to become a man. 

I can understand that. I have named it. Not that it hurts any less. And given the chance I would tell her, as she once told me. "I understand." Feh. It is more then that. I would have done the same. I would not have know why or thought to question. But I would have done the same given the chance. I would have died for her, for them, given a choice. Had she asked it of me. 

I would do it now, if it would bring her back. I'll drop my sword and face that last foe without flinching. For Shippo. For Miroku and Sango, their children and grandchildren. For her family in the future who cried when I brought their daughter home. For her brother who's children will never meet their aunt For Kaede and Myoga who gave in their fight with time and will see her sooner then I. 

But I could not die for me. Never for me. Because then I would still be without her. So it would never be for me. 

If only it would bring her back, I would go happily. As she seemed to. And maybe she would understand me as I am now. Understand why I could not close up again. I could not escape into the woods or vanish even into death. Why I refused to use to jewel bought with her blood. Why I stayed with Shippo, Miroku, and Sango as we pieced our lives together. 

Would she understand that I had to find a way to smile again? I think so. They think so. 

Would she understand why it still hurts so much to breathe? Will she choose as I have, to keep breathing anyway? Would she have taken my same road, kept our family together despite it all? I think she would have understood. Because I can. I have to. It took me a while. And my heart aches. But there are other loves. The love of a kit, taking his second chance with a second father. The love of dear friends, naming their children after me. The love of a brother, finally reconciled. The love of my neice, Rin. The love of Her family, extended even though I took Her from them. She tried to show me these loves. And I can understand that now. Finally. 

It is too late to share it with her. 

Gods, does it have to be too late?   


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Okay, now that I depressed you all, go read something happy! Cheer me up and leave a review!   



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